And a Cup of Crazy
by hiding duh
Summary: Shou/Kyouko. In case you were wondering about the recipe.


**Title**: And a Cup of Crazy  
**Fandom**: Skip Beat!  
**Characters/Pairings**: Shou/Kyouko  
**Summary**: In case you were wondering about the recipe.  
**Rating**: PG  
**Spoilers**: Through chapter 143. (Alternate ending.)  
**Word Count**: 1900  
**Notes**: So, I'm sort of starting to like Reino, too. ಠ_ಠ

*

He didn't care.

Obviously.

He'd demoted the idiot. She was totally off his radar. Gone from his head. Erased from his list. Besides, she was hideous and stupid and—

—how the HELL could she pick the DAMN BEAGLE over HIM—

No. No, it was okay. It was none of his business. He seriously didn't care.

If she wanted to fill her stupid heart or whatever with that Vie Ghoul idiot, fine. Perfectly okay with him. He'd toast to their damn wedding and shun their demon children and—

"Shou."

Oh. When'd his foot kick through the door? And who the hell had _bombed_ his damn studio?

Carefully, Shouko stepped over a mangled guitar carcass. "Kyouko-chan," she began, voice steady, "would never associate herself romantically with—"

Shou's fist smashed through the nearest wall. "What time is it?"

Shouko glanced at the overhead clock with concern. "Almost seven—"

Fuming, Shou slowly withdrew his hand. "How long does it take to make chocolate?"

Shouko blinked, contemplating. "I generally buy it, so... ten minutes?"

Shou kicked a chair and watched it spin around the room until it crashed into a very expensive amp, blowing out a nearby light bulb. "What do you need to make it?"

Growing increasingly troubled, Shouko daintily pushed away debris with the tip of her pointy shoe. "Money?"

Exasperated, Shou turned to glare at her. "Be right back."

Deaf to Shouko's anxious objections, Shou angrily took off, charging out of the studio and pushing recklessly through the crowded hallways. He must have been radiating death and destruction as people promptly jumped and ducked left and right, and not necessarily in a worshiping manner.

"Fuwa-san~" one fan fluttered obliviously, cornering him just as he'd reached the emergency exit. He paused to scowl, looking not unlike a homicidal sociopath. The girl shrank back immediately.

"I. need. to. buy. flour," he gritted out, eyes dark.

"T-that way," the girl pointed, bottom lip trembling.

With a satisfied nod, Shou burst through the exit, tripping the alarm and thoroughly ignoring the startled security guard. Seething, he stalked into the closest store, grabbed a few dozen ingredients, slapped down too much cash on the counter, then stomped out, hoisting the bag over his shoulder.

He still totally didn't care about Kyouko and chocolate, of course. He was just... hungry.

Yeah. _Starving_, actually.

Out of habit, he started heading home, only to remember Kyouko didn't live there anymore.

Something tiny but relentlessly painful tugged at his chest.

Impatient, he whipped out his cell phone. "I need directions to that idiot's house."

One hour—and twelve favors—later, Shou was stumbling through Kyouko's stupid neighborhood, his eyes perpetually narrowed. The bag was heavy and definitely ruining his perfect posture and seriously marring his beautiful fingers—

There. A single lit window above a cruddy old shop. Every ugly inch of it screamed 'STUPID GIRL LIVES HERE,' so Shou froze in his tracks, tilted his head thoughtfully, then—

—hurled a bag of flour through her window.

Almost instantly, a bushy head shot out, scanning the alley with murderous intent.

Shou hesitated.

Oddly appeased, he drew to his full height, then calmly greeted her. "Yo."

Momentarily surprised, Kyouko opened her mouth, eyes widening, then—

—jumped out of the window, landing before him with the force of a meteor impact. "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

His reaction was automatic. "WHO TOLD YOU TO HAVE CHEAP WINDOWS?"

Still crouching, she looked up at him, bathed in a demonic glow. "ARE THERE WINDOWS THAT CAN SURVIVE A BAG OF FLOUR—"

Shou crouched down opposite her. Their eyes met. "I'm hungry."

Completely thrown off guard, Kyouko raised a confused eyebrow. "...so?"

A year ago, she would've darted about, showering him with pudding and soup and candy. And attention. "Make me some chocolate."

She glanced at him as though he'd just tossed a small child under a bus.

Growing peculiarly uncomfortable, Shou averted his eyes, tempted to scribble in the dirt. "One last time."

Confused, Kyouko stared at him. "Are you dying?"

Annoyed, he stuck out a hand and pushed her over. "If you could make it FOR THE BEAGLE, YOU CAN MAKE IT FOR—"

She jumped to her feet, snarling, "I ALREADY TOLD YOU—"

Several windows along the alleyway lit up. A head or two poked out curiously. Shou even thought he'd seen a flash go off.

Quickly, both Shou and Kyouko scrambled up and hastily piled into Darumaya. Most of the lights inside the shop were off, and only the kitchen provided any semblance of protection, so Shou politely ushered Kyouko in.

Well. He'd mainly dragged her across the tiles, muttering darkly, but she was too furious to notice.

"Who invited you in, you bastard?" she bristled, powering up.

The hair on the back of Shou's neck stood up. Casually, he loosened his hold on her, then plopped the bag he'd been hauling onto the kitchen island, musing, "Hey, this is pretty convenient."

Twitching, Kyouko grabbed him by his shirt, and bared her teeth. "I was in the middle of something! Tsuruga-san's—"

Nonchalant, Shou glanced at his cell phone. "You have three hours."

A toxic miasma rose behind Kyouko, causing his skin to prickle. "I'm not making you any stupid—" She caught a glimpse of a shiny object poking out of the bag. "Well," she amended, mesmerized by the cheap lip gloss he'd accidentally bought, "maybe just some truffles..."

Irrationally gratified, Shou came to stand beside her, and rolled up his sleeves. "I lost the flour somewhere."

Her face threatened to catch on fire from her burning rage. "YES, MY WINDOW—" She glanced at the lip gloss, calming instantly. "...we don't need it anyway."

Shou found himself completely horrified at how pleased he was to hear her say 'we.'

Methodically, Kyouko washed her hands, divided the ingredients, then set about melting butter and generally looking like the girl that used to toddle after his mother, asking if she could help.

Shou's heart sped up. "You! Make mine better than the Beagle's."

Kyouko's shoulders stiffened. Her features turned particularly maniacal. "I made his with _all_ of my feelings poured in," she cackled, frenetically chopping at a bar of chocolate. "This is different."

There was a weird little emotion Shou was wholly unfamiliar with bubbling inside him. "Stupid." He flung the mold she'd discarded into the sink, voice rough. "Thinking so much about _love_ like some idiot girl..."

She stopped chopping and seemed to be... having an allergic reaction. "I don't want to hear that word from you," she threatened, bringing the knife uncomfortably close to his neck, "ever again."

"...idiot?" he frowned.

She gave him an incredulous look, then turned back to the chopping block, practically incinerating the chocolate. "Shoutaro," she warned, "you're not going to let him steal your songs again."

It sounded more like a command than a question, but Shou felt compelled to answer her anyway. "No."

Expertly, she scooped up the chocolate and mixed it with the butter, eyes glinting vindictively. "You should get revenge." Her shoulder lightly brushed his.

"It was just a song," he shrugged, distracted.

Lips curled softly, Kyouko poured the batter into the mold, chiding, "Your songs are your most important treasure, Shou."

Illogically upset, Shou glared at her. "There are more important things." His songs had no choice, or say, if someone intended to steal them away. Kyouko, on the other hand— "Two and a half hours left."

Caught in the moment, Kyouko perked up as though completing one of her ridiculous assignments. "Yes!" Hurriedly, she stuffed the misshapen truffles into the fridge, then suddenly seemed to realize what she'd been doing. "Hey, Shou. Go home."

"Eh?"

She glanced about the kitchen, which appeared as though it had been recently razed, and gave him a menacing grin. "They won't be ready for a few hours," she began, somewhat conspiratorially. "If you really want them," she added with a pious smile, "you can pick them up tomorrow. On set. Where Tsuruga-san will be."

Shou raised an approving eyebrow. Yeah. That sounded like a good idea. A really good idea. He'd be able to shove the chocolate down Tsuruga's throat, possibly both figuratively and literally. "Okay."

Kyouko deflated instantly. "Should've known that wouldn't work twice..." Her face fell. "I have to go finish Tsuruga-san's—"

"I wanna watch TV," Shou interrupted.

"GO WATCH YOUR OWN."

"IS THIS HOW YOU TREAT YOUR GUESTS?"

"DID I _INVITE_ YOU—"

A loud thump sounded from above, as though a heavyset person was banging a broom against the floor.

Adorably sheepish, Kyouko instantly lowered her voice and bowed, but the demonic presence wafting about her shoulders only seemed to reinforce itself. "Sit down," she hissed.

Shou's anger melted at once. He sat down at the cold metal counter, pasted on his most disgruntled expression, and leaned on his elbows.

With a bad-tempered little noise, Kyouko reached over him to swivel the tiny mounted TV toward the kitchen rather than the eating area. "Say thank you."

Shou smirked.

"Shou," she twitched, "say—"

His hand reached out. Easily, he drew her closer, forcing her to sit down next to him. "Thank you."

Shocked speechless, she paused for a moment, then eyed him suspiciously. "What are you—"

"Shut up," he frowned, nodding his chin at the small screen. "I like this show."

Offended, Kyouko slammed her knee into his.

With a wince, he refocused on her face.

Clueless. She was totally clueless.

Torn between grinning and... oh, _going insane_, Shou buried his face in his hands, groaning. "I'm hungry."

She seemed ready to ignore him. "Two more hours, at least. They have to cool down."

Not for chocolate, he wanted to say, but scooted his chair closer instead.

Wary, she attempted to hop away, her chair scraping against the tiles.

In two hours, Valentine's Day would officially start. And he'd be here—with her, eating truffles—whether she liked it or not. Tsuruga and the Beagle wouldn't.

A slow, wicked smile slowly curled Shou's lips.

"What'd you put in his chocolate?" he asked boyishly.

Kyouko clenched her fists, clearly disturbed just remembering the act. "I tried a new recipe," she announced over the sound of a studio audience clapping. "Thirty-five percent loathing, seventy-five percent laxatives." She seemed to think for a moment. "Wait, does that add up to more than one hundred...?"

He peeked at her over his arm, his cheek pressed against the counter. "And mine?"

"Eh?" she blinked.

"What did you make mine with?"

She waved him off, unconcerned. "I followed your mother's recipe."

Shou hid a stupid little grin and brought his gaze back to the show.

When he'd been little, his mother had made him sweets with rare ingredients, attention to detail, and practiced ease. And, often, with a lot of love.

A messy mix of emotions twisted his stomach.

Instinctively, he leaned closer over the counter, touching his elbow to Kyouko's.

Well.

Good thing he so totally didn't care.


End file.
